a cart from Laycocks, and she’s takin’ all our bit things over to her mother’s.  She won’t stay, she says, to be blowed up, not for no one.  Them Governments is terr’ble powerful, Squoire.  If they was to loose a bit o’ gas on us—­or some o’ they stuffs they put into shells?  Noa, Noa, Squoire’—­Perley shook his head resolutely, imitated exactly by Dodge—­’we’ll do our dooty in them things we was engaged to do.  But we’re not foightin’ men!’

‘You needn’t tell me that!’ said the Squire, exasperated.  ’The look of you’s enough.  So you refuse to barricade those gates?’

‘Well, we do, Squoire,’ said Perley, in a tone of forced cheerfulness.

‘Yes, we do,’ said Dodge slowly, copying the manner of his leader.

All this time Gregson had been standing a little apart from the rest.  His face showed traces of recent drinking, his hands wandered restlessly from his coat-collar to his pockets, his clothes were shabby and torn.  But when the Squire looked round him, as though invoking some one or something to aid him against these deserters, Gregson came forward.

’If you want any help, Mr. Mannering, I’m your man.  I suppose these fellows’ll lend a hand with carrying these things up to the gates.  They’ll not risk their precious skins much by doing that!’

Perley and Dodge replied with alacrity that so far they would gladly oblige the Squire, and they began to shoulder the hurdles.

It was at that moment that the Squire caught the eye of the black-coated man, who had been observing the whole proceedings from about ten yards off.  The expression of the eye roused in Mannering an itching desire to lay immediate hands on its possessor.  He strode up to him.

’I don’t know, sir, why you stand there, looking on at things that are no business of yours,’ he said angrily.  ’If you want to know your way anywhere, one of my men here will show you.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said the other tranquilly.  ’I know my way perfectly.’  He held up an ordnance map, which he carried in his hand.  ’I’m an engineer.  I come from London, and I’m bound for a job at Crewe.  But I’m very fond of country walking when the weather’s good.  I’ve walked about a good bit of England, in my time, but this part is a bit I don’t know.  So, as I had two days’ holiday, I thought I’d have a look at your place on the road.  And as you are aware, Mr. Mannering’—­he pointed to the map—­’this is a right-of-way, and you can’t turn me out.’

‘All the same, sir, you are on my property,’ said the Squire hotly, ’and a right-of-way only means a right of passing through.  I should be much obliged if you would hurry yourself a little.’

The other laughed.  He was a slim fellow, apparently about thirty, in a fresh, well-cut, serge suit.  A book was sticking out of one pocket; he returned the map to the other.  He had the sallow look of one who has spent years in hot workshops, and a slight curvature of the spine; but his eyes were singularly, audaciously bright, and all his movements alert and decided.